“Be Jasus! and my frind’s a jintleman--every inch of him!” cried Captain O’Blunderbuss: “and no jintleman could think of petitioning the Court with less than a hunthred and fifty creditors.” The whole Court was struck with dismay--the bench being perfectly aghast--at this interruption; while the captain stood as dauntless and menacing as if he seriously contemplated the challenging of Commissioners, learned counsel, lawyers, and all. Even the usher was so astounded by his conduct that he forgot to bawl out his usual noisy cry for silence. “Who is this person?” enquired Mr. Commissioner Sneesby, turning towards his brother-judge, as if the latter knew any better than himself. “_Person_, be Jasus! Don’t call me _a person_,” vociferated the gallant gentleman, stamping his martial foot heavily upon the floor. “Is it me name ye’d be afther finding out? If so, I’ll hand ye my car-r-d--and you’ll find that I’m Capthain O’Bluntherbuss, of Bluntherbuss Park, Connemar-r-ra, Ir-r-reland!” added the Insolvent’s bosom-friend, rattling the r in such an appalling manner that it seemed as if a waggon laden with iron bars was passing through the Court. “Turn him out!” exclaimed Mr. Commissioner Sneesby. “Be Jasus! and it’ll take tin of ye to do that!” ejaculated the captain, taking so firm and dauntless a stand that he appeared literally nailed to the ground. “But we’ll make a compromise, if ye plaze--and that is, I’ll hould my tongue.” [Illustration] “You had better, sir,” said the Commissioner: then, perceiving that none of the officials seemed inclined to assail the impregnable front which the ferocious Irishman presented, he thought it prudent to pass over the interruption and continue the business before the Court. “Who attends to oppose?” he accordingly demanded. “Me!” ejaculated a little, dapper-looking, flashily-dressed person, elbowing his way through the crowd behind the barristers’ seats, and getting his glossy beaver smashed flat as an opera hat in the desperate struggle: indeed, what with the smell of onions from one man and tobacco from another,--what with the squeezing, and pushing, and crushing--the treading on toes, and the danger of having one’s coat slit up the back or one’s pocket picked,--it is no easy nor pleasant matter to transform oneself into a human wedge to be applied to such a stubborn, compact mass as a multitude in a Court of Justice. At last, however, the little man succeeded in reaching the witness-box,--but not without being compelled to smart under the disagreeable conviction that the studied elegance of his toilette was entirely marred--his shirt-frill tumbled, his white waistcoat soiled through contact with a coal-heaver, and all the polish trodden off his boots.